Breaking Up (WIth Bread) Is Hard To Do.

I feel like hosting a parade.  Some people throw parties to celebrate momentous occasions; I feel as though nothing less than a parade will do for this: tomorrow.  That is the big, huge deal.  Tomorrow.  For me, maybe not so much for you.  But, for me--huge.
Tomorrow heralds the arrival of 30 days with zero nicotine (not even an e-cig!) AND...I'm joining a gym.  A real, live, honest to Jim, gym.  I have consulted with my boyfriend's mother, who is secretly my hero...if she ever reads this, the secret's out...oops.  Now I have a general idea of the hows, whats, and whens of my upcoming workouts (alternate muscle groups, switch up the cardio and strength training sessions to minimize risks for injuries, et cetera).  I still have the equipment and the previous exercises outlined by my former trainer last year.  Yes Casey, I kept everything.  I figured someday I would get over myself and actually follow through with your helpful suggestions.   I have an air-conditioned facility at school for my cardio and weight lifting activities and a balance ball, dumbbells, and yoga videos for my at-home stuffs.  The plan?  4 days a week. 1 to 1.5 hours per workout.  1 weekend day off.  No cheats.  Every other time I have tried to get a workout habit going, I cheated and broke up my entire flow.  No cheats has worked miracles with my nicotine dependence (or lack of, I should say), so I'm applying it to workouts too.  Keeping the schedule, no matter what.  Unless I'm dead or grievously injured, of course.  But that isn't going to happen (knocking on wood...now).
I have also checked in with one of my other inspirations (shout out to my homie Augustina--that's right, I said homie...I know, that's so suburban white girl of me) and have decided that tomorrow is the day I break up with bread.  Instead of sandwiches, hoagies, subs, po' boys, cheesesteaks, whatevers, I'll be having my turkey, meatballs, steak, chicken, tofu, etc., served over lettuce.  Or in a bowl over a pile of mixed veggies, depending on the type of not-a-sandwich I would like to devour.  In celebration of my impending good decision-making, I consumed my fair share, plus yours, of supreme pizza and lasagna this weekend.  Going out with a bang, I guess.  Ha.
So goodbye my formerly favorite foods. I will miss you, but my soon-to-be-whittled waist line will not.  If I can quit smoking and eating donuts, I can do This.  I have survived worse, but I'm still scared.  There's a part of my head that asks potentially damaging questions, like: what if I end up like I did last summer--smoking and sedentary again?  What if I do all this work and nothing changes?  Yeah, yeah.  What if, indeed.  How about, what if I actually accomplish what I'm setting out to do?  That is a novel idea and I'm going to go with that one.  This isn't rocket science and I won't be winning any Nobel awards or Pulitzer prizes for my efforts.  I'm just one girl on one fairly insignificant mission that happens to be a huge deal to me.  Someone should really throw me a parade...